Chapter Five
Mynowelechw Chamyr
Riding the Wings of the Wind
Æeyr Hbaair Æthagwynt Asgell
Several weeks later, Halomlyn, Tiawéflyn and Hwedolyn were having dinner in their own eyrie: a beautiful goat stew, with mead. Hwedolyn had grown much in the last year, and had lost the downy feathers of a cub. He was growing into a fine young gryphon, now, Halomlyn had told him. To Hwedolyn, the night he had become an adult gryphon was the night he and Atdaholyn had chased the elf-mage away, though of course, he was still two years away from being an adult gryphon, officially speaking.
“Father,” said Hwedolyn, “Can the elf-mage get back his magical power if he has lost his talisman?”
Halomlyn said, “He must re-grow those parts of his body that were injured. Perhaps he will look for a quiet cavern to dwell in, or a deserted cottage, and wait in the bushes to wyrd any unfortunate creatures that come close enough. My grandfather sometimes talked about what happens when a mage’s talisman is destroyed. His magical eye could nigh be impossible to replace. It may well mean he will be unable to use that species of magic any longer. He will be unable to do any magic for many months, at least, and it is my belief that we will not see him back here, for he will not want to risk repeating such a misadventure, unless he acts against his own nature, for elves are all cowards.”
“But are not elves also strange, unpredictable, fay creatures?” asked Hwedolyn.
“They are. But in this case I think he will not be back. I think cowardice is their predominant characteristic. Fear not, gryphon-cub, we have certainly seen the last of that elf-mage! He will fear the mighty gryphons, for we have bested him, for in truth, elves only fear those things that can hurt them - but towards those things that they do fear, they are cowards, truly. And elves do not like to waste their time, though they have a surfeit of it, and whilst we may not have killed him, he will fear to have his time wasted again. You and your cousin did well. That elf-mage is not likely to risk the wrath of a gryphon again in the near future.”
Many months passed and the gryphons grew careless in their habits, for the miners in the town all knew of their existence now and had even bought them a barrel of mead as a gift, and the fear and suspicion that was natural to gryphons was replaced by trust; even contentedness. For the first time in their lives the gryphons began to fly by day, beneath the sun, though a nagging fear still clung to them, for was not this against the gryphon-lore?
Then the days shortened, and rain and snow and sleet began to fall, and the Midwinter Solstice arrived in the middle of the one, single, unrelenting arctic night that endured for well nigh on four weeks.
A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen Page 17